Humble Distraction: Part 4
by Hanaellena
Summary: The gang search for their loved ones at the hospital where the Nogitsune and the Oni are causing chaos. But what does the Nogitsune want with Stiles?


**(Guys, thanks so much for your responses I appreciate it a hell of a lot! Apologies that this is nowhere as well written as the other chapters, it's just I'm trying to get it finished for Monday and it's a stretch. There's not so much Stiles/Lydia in this one so I'm sorry if that's what you're here for. I guess I've just gone off on one a bit. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and thank you again!)**

The hospital was a war zone. People were flooding out as if it was on fire, visitors and patients alike. The atmosphere was ominous and terrifying. Stiles began to wonder if he really wanted to know what was happening inside.

Derek had already texted the twins though whether they would actually turn up or not was debatable. Isaac on the other hand was already on his way. It crossed Stiles' mind how unfair this all was. It seemed never ending. When would his friends ever get to just sit down and rest?

Scott and Derek exited the jeep with what seemed like one swift movement whilst Deaton got out from where he'd parked parallel to them. The emissary looked positively frightened. It didn't suit him, not one bit. It took Stiles a little longer, and he should have been embarrassed when he needed Lydia's help, but right now he couldn't care less. His pride has disappeared the second Void had inhabited what was meant to be his. The second his own mind didn't belong to him anymore. And then there was the pain, the pain that still remained all over his body like a constant unhindered throbbing, and for that he allowed himself the support. Coming from Lydia, he nearly let it feel acceptable.

Screams were all around. People were injured. Children were crying. The rest of the Beacon Hills police department, what was left of them anyway, appeared to have already turned up, though that wasn't wholly surprising.

"I guess you were right." Said Stiles to the tiny banshee, whose arm wrapped tightly around his torso made the cold slightly more bearable. Lydia gazed up at him, apprehension in her eyes.

"I didn't want to be." She said. And with that the five of them entered the building, anything but prepared for the chaos that awaited them.

Inside, papers were strewn amongst people, people that could have been injured or dead. It was impossible to tell amongst the noise. There was an alarm ringing. The sound soaked the air and pounded through their heads like an incessant drumming, though the cause of all the chaos was nowhere to be seen. Stiles couldn't tell if his heart was in his stomach or if his stomach was in his throat. It felt like both. The sight of blood, some _innocent_ person's blood, made his insides twist and he wanted to be sick. Or maybe have a panic attack. The thought of his father only made it worse.

"I've gotta find my dad." his own voice sounded so foreign all of a sudden.

Scott glanced at him as they walked, meticulously searching the hallway with their eyes.

"I know." He said without pause. "It'll be quicker if we split up. Stiles, you should go with Derek and Deaton so you have protection. Lydia can come with me to find my mom."

Stiles knew it was logical, considering he could barely walk on his own accord, but he still hated how pathetic it made him feel, to need protecting, to be so damn useless. Even though he knew how ineffectual it was, he really wished he'd brought his bat.

Lydia was reluctant to let go of him, and he wasn't sure quite how to respond. He was averse to leaving her too. She was human, nearly. And it was funny how the death of these people suddenly seemed so much more plausible. He glanced down at her perfect ivory skin, her delicate velvet hair; as if it was the last time he would ever see it. And maybe it was.

"I'll see you soon" he said as they broke apart, putting all the strength and confidence into his voice that he could muster.

"I know" she replied simply, returning his gaze.

Scott looked at him now, serious and sedate.

"Be careful, okay?"

Stiles nodded.

"You too"

He saw Scott catch eyes with Derek then. No words were spoken, but he could tell exactly what was being mutely conveyed. _Find his dad_, he was saying with all the authority of a true alpha. _Don't let Stiles do anything stupid_. And then his friend was gone, dragging Lydia away with him down a separate corridor. Stiles felt oddly abandoned as he watched his two best friends take off without him. The feeling didn't last long though as he, Derek and Deaton quickly began on their own mission. A mission that was going to be successful. It had to be.

* * *

The twisting feeling in Lydia's stomach was getting worse. The feeling of dread, except it was more than that. It was a feeling she'd felt too many times before, usually right before she landed upon the next dead body.

And then the world came to a halt.

They saw her body lying not twenty feet ahead and the feeling of trepidation intensified tenfold. She was wearing her pale blue scrubs, her head of dark curly hair a strewn mess and her petite frame was lying completely and utterly still. Lydia's heart felt as if it had stopped. The air turned to acid. The ground swooped beneath her feet. _No_, she thought. _No no no_.

Scott appeared to go full throttle into a panicked frenzy and ran full speed towards the body. He fell to his knees before it and then stopped moving entirely.

Lydia didn't even want to go near. But she did. And the relief came heavy with a mass of guilt. The woman's skin was soft and pale. She was much younger than Scott's mother, perhaps in her early twenties. She wasn't Melissa. But she was still a person. And she was still dead.

Tears were now trailing down Scott's cheeks and all he could do was stare, unable to move.

"I thought..." it was all he could manage to say before he had to choke back a sob. As Lydia reached out her hand to place on Scott's shoulder, not knowing what else she could do, somehow above the sound of the alarm they heard an elevator arriving at the end of the corridor. Or at least Scott did, for his head snapped up and Lydia quickly followed his gaze.

The elevator doors opened to reveal Agent Mcall crouching over an injured yet still completely wonderfully alive Melissa. She knew it was Melissa. If she couldn't see it, she could feel it. And the relief was almost overwhelming. She and Scott ran to them leaving the lookalike where she lay in the middle of the corridor. It felt wrong and disrespectful, but those sort of feelings were a petty thing right now. When they arrived at the elevator they were greeted with a look of disbelief from Scott's father.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" he exclaimed. Scott didn't answer as his attention went straight to his mother, whose leg was bleeding badly. The blood was soaking through the impromptu bandage that Agent Mcall had obviously made in a panic. When Scott crouched down to examine the situation, Lydia thought she had never seen so much concern on a person.

"Mom, are you okay? What happened?"

Melissa's face was covered in pain and her speech came in short breathy gasps.

"Those things." She said. "The Oni. They're here. I guess I didn't run fast enough"

Scott's hands rolled into fists against his thighs. Lydia felt a similar tenseness overcome her. The thought of the Oni made her think of death. It made her think of Allison.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Agent Mcall's voice was full of frustration and confusion. "But would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"I'll explain later" said Scott with little care for the man in his voice. "Right now we need to get you both out. Can you walk?"

Melissa shook her head as perspiration shone across her forehead. Lydia noticed that her skin was turning an awful sickly colour.

"All right then. I'll carry you."

Scott reached out to put his arms around Melissa when Agent Mcall stopped him abruptly.

"Let me." He said with undeniable obstinacy.

Scott didn't argue. He let the man slip his arms beneath her and cradle her tightly. Lydia guessed it was because they still didn't know what lay ahead. If a fight broke out it would be wholly impractical for Scott to be burdened with his own mother.

Suddenly the werewolf stood up. His head turned upwards and a look of hard concentration came over him, as if he was listening out for something.

"Scott, what is it?" she asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.

"Gunshots" said Scott. "I can hear gunshots."

* * *

It didn't take long to find Stiles' father because the sound of gunfire lead them straight to him. Unfortunately, it also lead them to the Oni. Stiles seized up when he saw his dad, shot gun in hand, firing repeatedly. Alongside him was Deputy Parrish doing exactly the same. At the moment there appeared to be only one Oni and the bullets did slow it down, but the three of them had barely even registered the situation before it was upon the two officers, swinging it's sword with frightening speed.

Stiles cried out when he saw his father fall to the ground clutching his arm. The next second, Parrish was thrown hard against the wall. The deputy landed in a heap and lay still. Though it seemed impossible in his physical state, the fear for his father's life had Stiles running, _racing_ against a ticking bomb. He could think of nothing else other than to save him. He had to save him whether his useless body would let him or not.

In a fit of impulse fuelled adrenaline, he reached the Oni who had its sword raised high above its head ready to strike and grabbed its arm, tugging with all the strength he could conjure.

"Stiles, no!" was the last thing he heard before the Oni's hand was clamped around his throat, squeezing. Stiles choked. He tried to call Derek's name but his voice was trapped within him, reaching the top of his chest and then stopping in a silent scream of panic and pain. He felt his feet lift up from the floor and everything in his head scattered. He couldn't breathe. And that was all there was. There was a desperate struggle to stop his mind clouding over with darkness, to stop the numbness seeping in, and then suddenly it stopped. Stiles fell to the floor in a fit of coughing, disorientated and lost.

It took him a few seconds to recover enough to even look around. The Oni above him stood still, almost too still, like it was waiting for something. His stomach coiled when behind him he saw both Deaton and Derek on the floor further down the hallway. There with them stood another one of the masked figures, now just standing still, waiting. He didn't know what was happening. But at least his father was still alive. And that was _everything_.

"I'm glad you finally made an appearance, Stiles."

Stiles hadn't known what to expect. He'd never seen Void in the flesh. Not like everyone else. He'd only had the privilege of a horrifying bandaged creature crawling about in his head. Now he realised how preferable that image was. It was a painting compared to this. His own face, but the face of a _murderer_. His own eyes, but the eyes of a _monster_. His own hands, but the hands responsible for twisting a blade in his best friend, for ordering the death of Allison, for taking away light and hope and love. It was like looking in a mirror to see a reflection filtered through pure malevolence. And that reflection had taken solid form in this hallway. The Nogitsune had arrived. And it was everything Stiles hated.


End file.
